


The Whole Story

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-03
Updated: 1999-05-03
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	The Whole Story

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

The Whole Story

# The Whole Story
    
    
     by Mireille.
    Romantic, m/m relationship, rated PG.
    
    The Whole Story
    (immediately after "The Edge")
    
        I took her home.
        That's not the story I'm going to tell tomorrow, of 
    course, or at least, not the whole story. In the version I 
    plan to tell, I took her home, but then I went in with her 
    and didn't leave until morning, which will explain why I'm 
    still dressed like this. And that's the only way I'm going to 
    tell it, after tonight.
        But tonight... He's been a bad influence on me; I have 
    the urge to be honest, and three o'clock in the morning is 
    too late to go to confession. I could have talked to myself, 
    I guess, but that didn't seem like it would do the trick. I 
    wanted to get this out in the open, to put some distance 
    between myself and the truth so that I could, maybe, start 
    ignoring it. So I stopped by the station to pick up this tape 
    recorder, to tell--for one time only--the real story, which I 
    can then throw away like it never existed. Or keep, for those 
    long winter nights when I feel like torturing myself with the 
    truth.
        The truth. I think Cortez expected more from the evening, 
    but I didn't feel like playing the game. Not after the 
    conversation I overheard when she was getting her coat. So I 
    took her home. And left, politely, thirty seconds later, 
    without even so much as a kiss good-night.
        And I've been driving around since then, wishing I were 
    dead. Which will explain, in the morning, why I'm still 
    dressed like this. And all the time, I've been telling myself 
    it's no big deal, right, he asked her to go for some coffee. 
    Even trying to make myself believe that he'd have asked me, 
    only I appeared to be occupied with Cortez. 
        I made a pretty damn convincing argument, too...except 
    that I could tell by the expression on his face, even from a 
    distance, that it had happened again.
        It must have happened this way with Victoria, too. Just 
    suddenly, he was in love with her and it was like he always 
    had been. If Victoria's anything to judge by, it's like he 
    always will be, too, but I've been telling myself that 
    everyone has someone like that in his past. Reminding myself 
    that she's gone and it's over, and that he'll get over her in 
    time.
        It seems that he has. 
        I could force the issue, I suppose, corner him and demand 
    "Why not me?" but the only purpose it would serve would be to 
    humiliate me. Nothing will dislodge him when he's committed 
    his heart to someone.
        I was thinking--I had hoped--it might be me. I don't know 
    whether he swings both ways or not; I have my suspicions, but 
    it's not something I've figured out how to work into 
    conversation. 
        With anyone else, that would be the big question. With 
    anyone else, if we got past that hurdle, I'd be all right; if 
    he were a normal person, this would have just been two people 
    getting a cup of coffee, and I still might have had a chance 
    if I moved quickly enough. 
        But not him. No, I've got to fall for the one man who 
    would never, ever get involved with someone he doesn't love. 
    So this thing with Thatcher's going to be serious, at least 
    on his side, and if she breaks his heart, I'll kill her. But 
    that means he doesn't love me--not enough, or not in the 
    right way, anyway. 
        I always meant to tell him at least part of this. Meant 
    to make it perfectly clear that I'm bi, at least, just in 
    case he wanted to do something about it. Somehow, I never 
    quite worked up the nerve. I suppose that's a good thing, 
    though, considering. It could make things a bit awkward: him 
    being kind and understanding about it, and me trying to find 
    a rock to crawl under and die.
        So we'll go on the same way we've always done, working 
    together, being friends. And I'll get used to that ache from 
    something in my soul that keeps trying to tell me that 
    something in his might just be a perfect fit. And I won't ask 
    him why it wasn't me.
        I don't really want to hear the answer, anyway.
    
    

* * *


End file.
